


There'll Be an Evolution of The Human Soul

by zinke



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Introspection, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-19
Updated: 2009-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: 'Who do you want to be?' The question – so easily posed and yet so deceptively difficult to answer – had been a nagging presence in the back of her mind for some time now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to survival instinct.net on February 19, 2009.
> 
> Consider this my attempt to make sense of the season 4.5 incarnation of Laura Roslin. Many gracious thanks to caz963 and nnaylime for their infinite patience and valuable suggestions.
> 
> Contains spoilers through the season 4.5 episode Blood on the Scales.

Laura can’t remember ever having felt so tired.

Standing in the hatchway, with the reassuring weight of Bill’s arms around her and the mingled scent of gunpowder and sweat tickling her nose, Laura had wanted nothing more than to return to his quarters and crawl into his rack. To her relief, Bill seemed to understand without her having to say a word; after resting the solid, reassuring weight of his arm around her shoulders, he’d guided her through Galactica’s scarred and silent halls and, once he’d extinguished the lights in the cabin, followed her to bed.

With his body curled snugly around hers and their fingers thoroughly entwined, she’d waited in vain for sleep to claim her. But try as she might she hadn’t been able to stop the relentless churning of her thoughts, the endless replaying of the day’s –the past few days’ - tumultuous events scattered throughout her mind like pieces of a puzzle she hasn’t yet been able to solve.

Preoccupied as she’d been, Laura hadn’t noticed the absence of Bill’s telltale snoring right away; it wasn’t until she’d felt the unexpected, deliberate press of his lips against the nape of her neck and heard his breath catch that she’d truly understood just how much this day had cost him – and would continue to cost him tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that. 

He’d resisted at first – had tightened his arms around her almost to the point of pain – but eventually he’d relinquished his hold, and after turning to meet his watery gaze with as much reassurance as she could muster, she’d simply held him until the worst of it had passed. As his tears had subsided, she’d silently coaxed him to sleep, feathering her fingers through his unruly hair as his breathing gradually slowed and his body relaxed against hers.

Glancing down at him now, Laura can’t help but smile at the picture he presents, tucked against her side with his head nestled in the crook of neck and his arm slung possessively across her belly. That he’s been able to find some measure of solace here, with her, brings with it its own measure of peace – something that, despite her best efforts, has been in terribly short supply these past few days.

Who do you want to be? The question – so easily posed and yet so deceptively difficult to answer – had been a nagging presence in the back of her mind for some time now. She only wished she were able to come to a decision with the ease and strength of resolve that the Cylons had shown when she’d asked it of them earlier today.

Laura had meant what she’d said to Bill the other day; she’s grown increasingly weary of playing parts, of setting aside everything and everyone else because a prophecy and her people demand it of her. She used to be so much more than what circumstances have forced her to become; and while she doesn’t begrudge the choices she’s made, she doesn’t know how many more she will be able to make before she loses herself completely.

Beside her, Bill snuffles softly and pulls himself even more securely against her side. Reflexively Laura begins to skim her fingers along the muscular length of his forearm, then echoes his resulting contented sigh. The ease with which she’s fallen into this new and deeper intimacy with him is still somewhat of a mystery to her; they’d been coming to one another’s beds for months now; but even then Laura had made a point of holding a part of herself back, knowing all too well that Bill didn’t have it in him to do the same. At the time, there had been so much work left for them to do, and with the glimmering prospect of Earth still ahead of them, she’d simply consoled herself with the fanciful notion that there’d be time enough for self-indulgence once her people were safe and her role in this grand opera had come to a close.

Later, as she’d stood on that war-blasted shore with a chill wind stinging her cheeks, Laura had immediately recognized, with no small degree of resentment, that she would not be afforded so graceful an exit; if she wanted out, she was going to have to find a way on her own. 

So she’d tried to do just that; shut all of them – Bill, Zarek, Lee, her people – out, and turned both a blind eye and a deaf ear to the slowly simmering chaos surrounding her. And now the future will be forever colored by the devastation her willful idleness has wrought.

Today’s events have simply helped bring to light an uncomfortable truth Laura had been studiously trying to ignore for some time now: as much as she may wish the situation were different, she is no longer capable of being the leader the fleet needs. Today she’d done what was necessary to protect the fleet, just as she had countless times before. But this time it had been more than simple pragmatism that had finally driven her to act; and it is the myriad other, far less justifiable motives that have left her feeling frightened and insecure. 

Even at its most potent, her hatred of Baltar hadn’t had the power to do more than cloud her judgment. But today, with the unctuous sound of Tom Zarek’s voice ringing in her ears, she’d snapped and given in to the visceral, unbridled rage coursing through her veins. And while ultimately she’d not had to make good on her threat and the nobler goal had been achieved, Laura had no doubt that if it had come down to it, she would have fired on Galactica with a vindictive pleasure that, as President, she’d have had no business feeling.

Hard as she’s tried to prevent it, the motivations and reasons behind her leadership decisions have become – for so many different reasons – increasingly and intensely personal, and she’s no longer certain of her ability to put what’s best for the greater good above what will give her the greatest satisfaction.

But right now, stepping down is not an option; Tom Zarek’s actions today have made doing so both impractical and logistically impossible. But what’s more, Laura doesn’t want to step down. She’s never seen her charge as President as being about politics or power; years ago she made her people a promise; and try as she might she can’t find it in herself to simply walk away and entrust its fulfillment to someone else. Prophecy or not, she has been charged with leading her people onward to a future Pythia herself was unable to see, and perhaps the notions of destiny and choice are not as mutually exclusive as she’d once believed. Freed from the confines of divination, she can choose to lead, choose to love, or to put it all aside if she wishes. Finally, she has the chance to make her own decisions, and as she lies here with the warm weight of Bill’s body against hers and his breath tickling her skin, Laura resolves that this time – this last time – she wants things to be different. 

She’s felt good these past few days – better than she has in months – and while Cottle would attribute the effects to the lack of Diloxin in her system, and others to her blatant shucking of her Presidential responsibilities, she knows better. For the first time since those early days on New Caprica, Laura’s permitted herself the luxury of being the woman she’d once had the freedom to be. She’d forgotten how invigorating it felt to be selfish – to live rather than simply exist, to love without stipulation or regret. 

She doesn’t have it in her to continue on as she has been; too much has happened and too many things – herself included – have changed. Living and dying for the sake of her people is no longer enough to sustain her; if she’s honest with herself, it hasn’t been enough for quite some time. What Laura’s come to realize over these past few months is that she is just as deserving of her care and devotion as the souls she’s so diligently fought to protect. 

She’ll find a way to look after her people and will give them whatever of herself she can; but she’s no longer willing to be their everything – their only hope – anymore. 

“You okay?”

Looking down, she meets Bill’s half-lidded, concerned gaze and gives him an apologetic smile. “I thought you were asleep.”

Lifting his head, he drops a kiss on her collarbone. “Can’t. You’re thinking too loud.” 

“Oh, is that all?” she teases as she rolls to face him and slides a leg between his. 

His face grows suddenly serious and she finds she can’t tear her eyes away from his as he raises a hand to cup her cheek. “I’m glad you’re here, Laura.”

Leaning in, she kisses him softly then settles back against the pillow and closes her eyes. “Me too, Bill. Me, too. Now go to sleep.”

 

*fin.*


End file.
